


(Not) The Same

by flaming_muse



Category: Glee
Genre: Episode Related, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-16
Updated: 2011-11-16
Packaged: 2017-10-26 03:19:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/278075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flaming_muse/pseuds/flaming_muse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Lima Bean, Monday afternoon.</p><p>episode tag for 3x05 ("The First Time")</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Not) The Same

“I can’t believe there are Christmas decorations out already,” Kurt says as they stand in line to order their drinks on Monday afternoon at the Lima Bean. He gestures to the miniature fake evergreen trees decorated with tiny gold bows sitting on the counter between the glass jars of biscotti and displays of bagged coffee beans. “It’s not even Thanksgiving. I’m still working my way through my repertoire of fall sweaters.”

The sweater he’s wearing today is a rich nubbled grey with fabulous abstract obsidian buttons, and it skims his body and shows off the broadness of his shoulders and chest and the slimness of his waist; all day at school Blaine has itched to unbutton it and slip his arms inside to seek out the heat of Kurt’s body and the solidity of his lean frame. He’s never found Kurt all that untouchable, not even at his prickliest and most perfect, but now that he knows what lies beneath all of the clothes he’s even more driven to feel _him_ and not whatever armor of fabric and fabulousness he chooses to place on top.

Blaine slides his hands into the pocket of his own coat, because for so many reasons that’s where they have to stay. At least he can enjoy how great Kurt looks, because polished to a shine or rumpled and sweaty he always looks fantastic. He can’t help but smile over at him. “Think of it this way: it gives you a reason to daydream about your winter sweaters while you’re still wearing your fall ones.”

“Like I need unseasonably early decorations to daydream about fashion,” Kurt says, still eyeing the trees with disapproval. He shifts his attention to Blaine, and his expression softens just a hair. “Don’t tell me; you like them.”

“Christmas is magical,” Blaine says with visions of garlands and candles and _mistletoe_ dancing through his head. He thinks of kissing Kurt by a candlelit Christmas tree, and he rocks onto his toes. Christmas with Kurt is going to be amazing. He doesn’t know why he hasn’t considered it before.

“So it should last for two months?”

The line moves forward, and Blaine shrugs. “Why not? More magic for everyone.”

Kurt rolls his eyes at him, but there’s no bite in the gesture. It actually makes Blaine feel kind of warm when Kurt is exasperated or bemused by something about him but still loves him anyway. It’s like another bullet dodged. “And to think I was embarrassed about my romantic side. You’re not-so-secretly hopeless about sparkly holidays. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about how you feel about Valentine’s Day.”

Blaine’s pulse begins to race at the thought of Valentine’s Day with Kurt. He really gets to celebrate this year, and it will not be the mess the last one was. He has an absolutely amazing boyfriend who loves him. Kurt’s no Jeremiah; he won’t fade away or freak out at being serenaded or showered with romantic gifts. Blaine can pull out all of the stops. He will have to start planning.

He wonders for a heart-stopping moment what Kurt might do for _him_.

“Your eyes just lit up brighter than the tree at Rockefeller Center,” Kurt says with a laugh. “Should I be worried?”

“No,” Blaine tells him. “No. And Kurt?” He waits until Kurt meets his eyes again. “Please don't _ever_ be embarrassed about being a romantic.” He says it seriously and softly, and Kurt’s smile returns, more gentle this time. It makes Blaine’s heart pound even faster; he knows that smile, knows that Kurt’s thinking of the other night, just as he is. He knows Kurt is thinking of just how special it was, how close it had made them both feel. Blaine wants to get lost in that smile. He wants to lean over and taste it.

And then the look is gone in a blink as the barista turns her attention to them and Kurt steps up, all measured politeness, to order for them both. It’s like a bucket of cold water thrown on Blaine’s face. They're in the Lima Bean. They can't. He knows that. Of course he knows that.

He shoves his hands deeper into his pockets and tries to act as nonchalant as Kurt is, though his overflowing heart is aching at having to be contained in his chest.

"Would you like a cookie?" Kurt asks him over his shoulder.

Blaine considers it for a second and then shakes his head. "Thanks, but I'm not hungry."

Kurt half-turns toward him in concern. "Are you feeling okay? Are you getting sick?"

"No," Blaine assures him. "I'm just not hungry."

Kurt hmms thoughtfully but lets it go and pulls out his wallet to pay.

The cafe is fairly empty for a sunny afternoon, so they have their pick of tables. To Blaine’s surprise, after a quick scan of the room Kurt turns decisively toward the table Blaine had shared with Sebastian last week and takes the very chair Sebastian had sat in. He sets his coffee down in front of him and waits for Blaine with a lift of his eyebrows.

Blaine follows more slowly and tries not to think about why Kurt's choice makes him feel uncomfortable. He’d just had coffee with Sebastian. It doesn’t matter what else Sebastian had offered; Blaine hadn’t done anything wrong. He knows that. Still, he'd rather sit anywhere else, just so the shadow of guilt settling on his shoulders wouldn't be there. But that’s where Kurt is, so he goes.

Kurt adjusts his sweater and tie and smiles as Blaine sinks into his chair. It’s not the soft one of a few minutes before; it’s more pointed and determined. Blaine knows this smile well. It means Kurt has a plan about something.

“I’ve been thinking,” Kurt says.

“About what?”

“What we’ll need to do to crush the Warblers now that we’ve lost Mercedes, Santana, and Brittany.”

Blaine frowns a little, shocked by the happy venom in Kurt’s voice. The guys are his friends and were once Kurt's friends, too. At least he thought so. “Hey, ‘crush’ seems kind of harsh.”

Kurt just raises an eyebrow and says, “They’re our _competition_ , Blaine.”

 _Once a Warbler, always a Warbler_ , Blaine thinks and wonders if Kurt feels that way about his time at Dalton or not. He decides not to ask.

“Okay. Tell me.” Sipping his coffee, Blaine tries to be attentive even as he lets out a quiet sigh. As much as he lives for the way Kurt engages with his world, he kind of doesn’t want to hear about Kurt’s plans, even if it’s probably his fault Kurt has one right now if the choice of table is any indication of what’s on Kurt’s mind and who exactly Kurt wants to crush.

It's not even about the Warblers. Blaine wants to go to Nationals, so he knows New Directions has to beat them, and he knows they'll have to work hard to overcome their losses to do so. He knows Kurt isn't actually wrong.

The problem is, Blaine realizes, that right now he doesn’t want to watch Kurt sitting behind his carefully moderated expressions as he tries to re-order the intricacies of his life. He just wants to _be_ with him. Kurt's sitting right there, shining like the sun, and Blaine wants to be with him. He’s had to be careful all day at school not to smile too brightly or touch him too much, and he wants to stop being careful. It hurts that he can’t.

It’s not that he's desperate to strip Kurt out of his clothes this very second, although it’s not like he’d argue against it, but he just wants to be with him. He wants that quiet, special space they’d created, where they didn’t have to be anything but themselves. He’d felt peaceful there, secure, confident, easy in his own skin in a way he hadn’t expected. He’d been able to see Kurt feeling the same way with him, because of him, and that had made Blaine feel even more special. It had made Blaine feel the best he ever has in his life.

He doesn’t know when he’ll get to feel that way again. He doesn't know how to keep acting like it doesn't matter that he wants to.

“The good thing is that you’ll probably have at least one lead in the competition,” Kurt is saying. “Not only are the judges going to love you, but if we sing first or even leak the news at the right moment half of the Warblers will probably break down in tears in despair at having to face you.”

Blaine laughs despite himself, and Kurt shoots him a grin and taps his foot against Blaine’s leg as he continues on, somehow airy and cutting at the same time. Blaine watches him, drawn as always to the fire that burns in him, even if he knows now so much more about the true depths that lie beneath it.

Kurt is a private person. Blaine knows that. Blaine has _always_ known that, despite how much Kurt opened up to him so quickly when they met, because it was clear that Kurt didn’t have anyone else to talk to so freely. Blaine’s always been honored by that trust, that he got to see things about Kurt that no one else did.

He still feels that way now that they’ve taken this next step in their relationship. His breath catches when he thinks of the way Kurt looked at him as they lay next to each other on his bed, before and after. He was so calm, so trusting, so content, so open and vulnerable and unafraid, and it was the greatest gift Kurt could give him, that sureness in Blaine and that view of Kurt's inner self that he never shows to anyone.

Kurt hadn’t held back. Kurt, who always holds something back with everyone else in the world, hadn't held back. From the wonder on his face when he’d made Blaine arch and moan with his touch, Kurt’s eyes wide with shock like he hadn’t thought he could make someone do that, to the way he’d gasped out Blaine’s name again and again with pleasure, with delight, with awe as Blaine had touched _him_ Kurt hadn’t held back at all. He’d been right there in the moment with Blaine - _with_ him, with no facades, no barriers, no filters - every single second. It had been _incredible_. Just thinking about it makes Blaine’s throat feel tight with emotion.

And now Kurt’s over there, separated from Blaine by far more than just the span of the table. He's warm, he's excited, he's obviously happy to be with Blaine, but it's not at all the same. Blaine isn’t surprised, he’s so not surprised that he can’t even be disappointed, but it still hurts, because it’s not what he wants. Not at all.

“Blaine? Are you okay?” Kurt asks gently, and his eyes have gone worried as he watches Blaine with his head tilted. The Kurt Blaine wants peeks out of Kurt’s public face.

“Yeah,” Blaine says. Part of him wishes he could grab hold of him, kiss him, and hang on for dear life. He drinks more of his coffee instead.

Kurt’s focus doesn’t waver. “Are you sure?”

Blaine nods. “Glee practice felt twice as long as usual today.”

“You’ll get used to Mr. Schue’s obsession with ‘80s music,” Kurt assures him, settling back. “Give it time.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Blaine says. “That was fine. I like the music."

"You _like_ the music?"

Blaine shrugs. "Sure. It's fun."

Kurt rolls his eyes to the ceiling like he thinks Blaine's insane but adorable. "You like the music, and you still thought practice was interminably long? You love rehearsing. Are you sure you're not getting sick?"

"I'm not sick, Kurt," Blaine tells him as plainly as he can. "I just wanted to be with _you_.”

Kurt’s eyes widen, and he looks flustered for a second before he lets out a pleased, “Oh.” He smiles a little and nudges Blaine’s foot with his own. “Well, here I am.”

Blaine smiles in return, and he can’t keep it back the way Kurt can. “Here you are,” he says, reaching out his hand on the tabletop. Kurt swallows his coffee and fits his hand into Blaine’s. His thumb rubs over the back of Blaine’s fingers, sending sparks and shivers up Blaine’s arm. Kurt’s long fingers have been featured in Blaine’s erotic imagination for some time now, but now that he actually knows how good they feel on him, _around_ him, he’s never going to be able to see holding hands as quite the same innocent expression of love he used to.

It’s not that it doesn’t still mean something to hold hands, but everything now means more, not just because of the new things they did but because of what they shared with each other through them. Everything means more, because the two of them _are_ more to each other.

Blaine had read somewhere that if your relationship is strong sex doesn’t change it or you but just intensifies everything you already feel, and he understands that now. He was already head-over-heels for Kurt. He already felt giddy just seeing him walk into a room. He already arranged his life to be with Kurt as much as possible. He already thought of Kurt pretty much every minute of the day. None of that had changed, but he did feel _more_ of it.

And now that he’s seen Kurt being so truly open with him he wants more of that, too, because he _loves_ him. He loves Kurt, and he wants to feel Kurt's love mirrored right back at him.

“Blaine?” Kurt asks, and Blaine jerks his head up as he realizes he’s been staring at their hands instead of continuing the conversation.

“I'm sorry."

“Where did you go?” Kurt’s voice is soft, curious, and a little confused.

He figures answering ‘back to the other night with you in my bedroom’ isn’t all that charming, so he says, “I’m here. I’m right here.” He squeezes Kurt’s hand, and for some reason Kurt takes that as a sign to let go and pull back with another smile.

"I should hope so," Kurt says and nudges Blaine's leg with the toe of his boot again. "This matters to you, too. I know you want to go to Nationals."

"With you." Blaine fits his foot against Kurt's by the leg of the table and tries to ignore the warmth that flares up from his ankle to his knee at the touch. It's difficult.

Kurt smiles. "Yes, this time we'll go together. It will be that much better than last year, even if it's not New York."

It’s not really different between them, Blaine reminds himself as Kurt continues on like they're on just another coffee date, except that it is. Blaine doesn’t know how Kurt can keep it together the way he is. He has to feel the pull between them, the same that’s drawn them together for so long but so much _more_ of it. He has to have the same inconvenient flashes of sense memory, of lips trailing over skin, of hands gripping hard, of soft breaths blending together as their faces lay inches apart on the pillow. Blaine doesn't know how Kurt can seem so unruffled by it.

But then Kurt’s poised and confident in a way that Blaine can only pretend to be. Kurt can stand on his own two feet and shield himself from everything; he’s _had_ to. Blaine might hate that he’s had to, but he admires that he can.

Kurt is so independent, always pulled together, always aware of himself and what he’s presenting to the world. He doesn’t often reach out, doesn’t seem to need to, although Blaine knows that isn’t true because when they’re alone, sometimes, he does reach for Blaine. He reaches for Blaine like he’s everything he wants in the world, and if Blaine knows he actually isn’t, because he is neither perfect nor the shining beacons of New York and fame and admiration that Kurt dreams about, it still feels wonderful because in that moment Kurt feels that way about _him_.

The other night, Kurt had reached for him again and again and held him close with his strong arms like he was never going to let go.

“Blaine?” Kurt says again, and when Blaine looks up he sees that Kurt is actively starting to look concerned. He looks vulnerable, too, but not in a good way. He looks vulnerable like he doesn’t know what Blaine’s going to do and is about two seconds away from steeling himself against it.

“I’m sorry,” Blaine says. He takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Kurt. I’m fine. I’m here. I’m here.”

“You’re not fine,” Kurt says, and he’s so close to being wary that Blaine wants to kick himself for wanting anything out of Kurt but his contented self behind his public face. "And you don't seem to be here at all."

“I _am_ ,” Blaine says. “Really. I’m sorry. I just can’t stop thinking.”

Kurt keeps watching him, still and worried. “About?”

“You. Us. But mostly you.”

“And you keep zoning out while talking to me because you’re thinking about me?”

“Yes?” Blaine says helplessly, because he knows it’s crazy.

“That makes no sense.”

“I know.”

Kurt uncrosses his legs and leans forward, his hands folded on the table. “What’s going on?” He watches Blaine's face.

“I - “ Blaine looks out over the cafe and tries to get his bearings, but everything he wants is right there across the table, and his eyes are drawn back to gorgeous, vibrant, beyond amazing Kurt. “I can’t stop thinking about us. The other night.”

Kurt’s eyes go wide, and he goes pale for a moment before his cheeks flush pink.

“No!” Blaine insists, reaching out a hand toward him, and Kurt’s eyes get even larger. “Not that. No. I mean, _yes_ , that, too, obviously I think about that, but no. That’s not what I meant.”

Kurt coughs and takes a sip of his coffee to clear his throat. “What did you mean?” he asks, his voice still tight.

Taking a deep breath, Blaine leans forward. He can tell Kurt anything. He knows that. "I - Kurt, I really liked being with you. Not just when we were - " An elderly couple passes by, and Kurt fills in Blaine's words with an eloquent wave of his hand. " - but just _being_ with _you_. Being together, quiet, just the two of us. That meant a lot to me."

"It did to me, too," Kurt replies softly.

Blaine nods and relaxes just a little, because even though he knew it was true it feels good to hear it. "And I guess I'm having trouble, you know, _not_ being with you now, here. Because I _want_ to, and we _can't_ , and I know this isn't the place, but when I look at you across the table and you're - it's hard."

"And I'm what?" Kurt asks. "Wearing clothes?"

Blaine chokes on air, and between the shock of Kurt's dry words and the memory of Kurt naked and beautiful in his bed it takes him a second to be able to breathe again. "I just told you this wasn't only about sex, Kurt," he manages to say.

"I know; I was trying to lighten the mood." Kurt gives a self-conscious shrug of apology, but he's still pink. Blaine knows this is hard for him to talk about, too, if for different reasons. "Please." He gestures to Blaine to continue and places his hand on the table between them.

Stroking his fingers over the back of Kurt's hand, Blaine gets lost in the sensation while he thinks before raising his eyes back up to Kurt's. "I love you," he says finally. "Everything about you. I love your fashion sense and your sense of humor and your passion for performing and that little shimmy you do." Kurt flushes a little more, but the corners of his mouth lift in a delighted smile. "I love that you love _me_."

"I do," Kurt says.

"And I love that you let me see so much more of you than everyone else does," Blaine says, and Kurt nods. "But I love it so much that I kind of want it all of the time."

"You always see more than anyone else, Blaine."

"I know. I - " Unable to find the right words, Blaine places his hand over Kurt's and squeezes. "I just love you."

Kurt squeezes back. "I love you, too," he says, his face and his voice soft.

"I want you to," Blaine replies, and the sudden enormity of his yearning threatens to overwhelm him, because Kurt is the most incredible person in the world, and he just wants Kurt to love him, trust him, be proud of him every second.

"I _do_. Blaine - "

Blaine shakes his head to stop him. After Kurt had left, Blaine had lain in his bed, his sheets still smelling of the two of them, and had found himself wavering between elation and the crushing weight of potential failure. Kurt had trusted him with his vulnerability and his heart, Kurt who trusted so few, and Blaine doesn't want him to be sorry for it. He's not worried about Kurt being sorry about what they'd done, because Blaine knows it was perfect and loving, something they'll always remember positively, but sorry that he trusted Blaine with his true self.

"I know," he says. "And I know I made some mistakes last week, and I can't tell you what it means to me that you do, that you wanted _more_ when I was so - "

"Blaine," Kurt cuts him off, though Blaine's internal recitation of _wrong, stupid, insecure, thoughtless_ continues. Kurt puts his other hand on top of theirs where they're joined. "Stop. We already talked about this. I _love_ you."

"I know," Blaine says, despite the fact that he's unable to hide that he's hanging on Kurt's every word.

"And I love being your boyfriend," Kurt tells him. "We all make mistakes, Blaine. You do; every once in a while I do." The humor is clear in his voice. "But I'm never not happy that you're _my_ boyfriend."

Blaine grips Kurt's hand tightly, breathing in slowly against the tide of his emotion. Kurt gives him a small but unwavering smile.

"I'm crazy about you, Kurt," Blaine says. "And the other night at my house… I can't sit here and pretend it didn't happen. I'm sorry, but I don't know how to do that."

"I know. You don't have to. It changed things. It made them better." The hint of a question forms in Kurt's eyes.

Blaine nods.

"And maybe a little more complicated, too," Kurt says with a sigh, but he doesn't sound unhappy.

Blaine nods again. "But in a good way."

"Yes."

"At least once we get used to it."

Kurt's mouth quirks up into a grin. "I don't know," he says dryly, pulling back his hands and smoothing his sweater. "You have no idea how hard it has been to look at you all day and not be allowed to get that bow tie off of you so I can kiss your neck. I'm not sure I'll ever get used to that."

"Kurt…" Blaine gulps the rest of his coffee, because his mouth has gone as dry as the desert.

"I can't sit here and pretend it didn't happen, Blaine," Kurt teases.

Blaine tries to get a few more drops of his drink out of the empty cup.

Kurt's grin widens. "Come on," he says. He pushes his chair back and stands up, sliding his bag over his shoulder. "I have some sketches of potential Sectionals costumes at home."

"You - Okay." A little confused, Blaine picks up his own bag and gets to his feet.

"At home," Kurt says with deliberate slowness. "In my room. Where you might want to take off your tie for a few minutes if my dad is busy downstairs."

"Oh. _Oh_."

Kurt laughs and shakes his head, leading him toward the door. He doesn't take Blaine's hand or bump his arm, but the sparkle in his eyes draws Blaine with him as surely as his touch would.

The thing is, though, that a part of Blaine still wants the touch.

He loves Kurt, but he can't help that there’s a part of him that wonders what it would be like to have Kurt serenade him in the middle of the school instead of giving him an admittedly beautiful bouquet of flowers on the back stairs. There’s a part of him that is very aware there's a big difference between Kurt staking a claim by taking his arm in front of Sebastian and snuggling against him in the choir room just because he wants to.

He really hates that part of himself right now.

"If you'd like," Kurt says with a hint of hesitation Blaine's not used to hearing from him, "I could ask if you could stay for dinner, and we could watch a movie after we finish our homework."

Blaine knows that means curling up together under an afghan, and even if it's not the same as breathing together on his bed it sounds so absolutely wonderful his arms ache to have Kurt in them right now. "Please. Let's do that."

Kurt's smile is bright as he replies, "If you're extra nice, I'll even let you pick the movie."

Still, when they reach the door, Blaine finds himself glancing back at their vacated table and remembers Sebastian flirting with him so openly from the very same chair Kurt had occupied. He remembers how flustered he had felt beneath the flattered surprise. He remembers how his skin had prickled against his will at that direct interest right there in the open.

He doesn't want Sebastian. He wants _Kurt_. He knows that. And that's not what Kurt does, not in public.

"Did you need something else?" Kurt asks, turning back toward him from a few steps down the sidewalk.

Blaine shakes his head and lets the door close. He has Kurt; that's enough.


End file.
